The air was thick with smoke and dust. The square of Briarford had become a battlefield, and Kael stood, panting, facing Dargoth, the bandit lord, who loomed over him with a twisted grin. Blood dripped from Dargoth's arms, yet his aura of sheer menace remained unbroken.
Maverick crouched nearby, eyes narrowing. "Kael… it's time. I'll teach you a technique—focus all your power into a single strike. I call it Crimson Fang. You channel everything—speed, strength, precision—into one attack. Nothing else matters. One strike, one chance."
Kael wiped blood from his lip, glaring at Dargoth. "Crimson Fang?"
"Yes. But you must commit fully. No hesitation."
Kael nodded, tightening his grip around his sword.
Maverick's tail flicked as he whispered guidance. "Focus on your center. Feel your blood, your strength, your spirit all moving as one. When the moment comes, release everything."
Kael stepped forward, eyes blazing. Dargoth sneered, swinging his curved blade in a powerful arc. Kael dodged lightly, circling, sensing the bandit lord's rhythm. Then, with a deep breath, he unleashed Crimson Fang.
His aura flared red and black, coiling around him like a living thing. He lunged forward, sword blazing with condensed energy, and struck Dargoth's chest. The impact threw the bandit lord back, leaving a deep gash. Blood sprayed, smoke and dust swirling around them.
The villagers gasped. "He… he actually hurt him!"
Dargoth staggered, gripping his wound, but his grin returned, more vicious than ever. "I'll die… but I will take you with me!"
With a roar, he charged, blade swinging like a scythe. Kael blocked, but the force of the strike crushed his sword, splintering it into pieces. He stumbled, thrown backward.
The burning huts behind him caught fire. Flames licked the walls and roof, smoke choking the air. Kael coughed but refused to yield. Maverick's voice rang out urgently: "Kael!"
Pain and determination burned in Kael's chest. His eyes narrowed, and from the ashes of the nearest hut, he rose, a glint of steel in his hand—a kitchen knife he had grabbed from the fire. Flames danced around him, yet he moved forward, unwavering.
Dargoth's eyes widened. "Impossible! How… how is he still standing? Who is this child?"
Suddenly, a shadow flickered behind Kael—a tall figure, fully armored like a knight, yet tinged with blood-red reflections. Dargoth's eyes tracked it. "What… what is that?"
Kael didn't hesitate. With sheer speed and fury, he slashed forward, the knife gleaming in the firelight. The blade connected with Dargoth's neck, cutting clean through in a single motion. The bandit lord's head fell to the ground. Silence followed, except for the crackle of flames.
Maverick's golden eyes widened, tail flicking in disbelief. "He… he has finally awakened."
The villagers stepped out, eyes wide, cheering. "He… he defeated him!"
"Kael… he did it!"
Hands grabbed him, helping him stand, wiping soot and blood from his face.
Kael looked down at his hands, shaking, his chest heaving. "I… I did it. I finally killed someone strong."
Maverick purred softly, tail curling. "Yes… yes, you did. Unbelievable… truly unbelievable."
Kael's gaze hardened, a mixture of exhaustion and triumph in his eyes. "We can't stop here… this is only the beginning."
The villagers rallied around them, aiding in rebuilding what they could, but the fire's glow still illuminated the square, a reminder of the chaos that had passed. Kael's first true battle had ended, but in his heart, the fire of determination was only beginning to burn.
The sun rose over Briarford, casting golden light across the village that had barely begun to recover from the chaos of the previous night. Smoke still lingered over some of the huts, and the smell of ash hung in the air. Villagers moved cautiously, some still in shock, but the fear that had gripped them was slowly giving way to hope.
Kael sat on a wooden bench outside the elder's hut, his bandaged hands resting on his knees. His chest still ached from the battle, and bruises and burns ran across his arms and face, but his eyes shone with a mixture of exhaustion and pride. Maverick lay curled beside him, in the morning sun, tail twitching as his golden eyes scanned the village.
"You did well yesterday," Maverick said softly, his voice calm but carrying weight. "Your control improved even under pressure. That attack, Crimson Fang… it nearly broke your limits, but you held it together."
Kael nodded, staring at the horizon where the mountains met the sky. "I… I can't believe I actually did it. I killed someone… strong. And the villagers… they trusted me… even for a moment."
Maverick flicked his tail. "It's not about trust yet. Strength is about protection, not recognition. But yes… they see your power now. That matters, at least for their morale."
The elder approached, walking slowly, leaning on his staff. His expression was calm but curious. "Kael, you survived an impossible fight. The villagers speak your name with awe already. They've begun calling you… the Red Tiger of Briarford."
Kael blinked, surprised. "Red Tiger…?"
"Yes," the elder nodded. "Not only for your strength but for the fire you carry inside. It is rare for someone so young to stand against danger like that. You've given these people hope."
Maverick's ears twitched. "Hope can be dangerous too… if it is misplaced. But it is good that they see you as a protector. That will make their courage stronger, and it will strengthen you as well."
Kael exhaled slowly. "I need to get stronger… much stronger. I can't let anyone else get hurt because I'm not ready."
Maverick's golden eyes narrowed. "Good. That is the mindset of a warrior, Kael. But rest is part of training too. You've used nearly all your energy in the last battle. You will need it for what comes next."
The villagers began to gather cautiously, giving Kael space but whispering among themselves. Some were smiling, some curious, all cautious. A few children approached timidly, their eyes wide. Kael's gaze softened as he saw them.
"You… you saved us," one little boy said, pointing to the bandit leader's remains outside the village. "Are you really the Red Tiger?"
Kael hesitated, then smiled faintly. "I… I am Kael. That's all."
Maverick flicked his tail, stepping forward slightly. "Don't let them get too close. Curiosity can become danger."
But the villagers couldn't help themselves. Over the next few hours, word spread of Kael's victory. Families brought food and water for him and Maverick, grateful and respectful. Even the elder nodded approvingly, seeing how Kael's presence had lifted the village's spirit.
As Kael rested against a wooden post, bandages still covering his wounds, Maverick sat on his shoulder, whispering advice. "Tomorrow, we will begin training again. I'll teach you control over Crimson Fang and a new defensive skill. You need to be able to strike, but also survive without relying only on power."
Kael nodded, closing his eyes briefly. "I understand… I won't let anyone else die because of me."
Kael's eyes drifted shut, a faint smile on his lips. "Tomorrow… we become stronger."
And in the quiet of Briarford, a new legend had begun to take root.